


What Girls Like

by L_M_Biggs



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/F, brienne is willing to help her figure it out, sansa is not sure what she likes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-04 20:42:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13372701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/L_M_Biggs/pseuds/L_M_Biggs
Summary: “You have very gentle hands.” Sansa whispered, her sharp nose pressed to the soft hair of the other woman’s temple, breathing in the scent of soap, the scent of mead on Brienne’s breath puffing against Sansa’s own mouth and nose gently. “You could not hurt me with these hands.”“I could.” Brienne murmured, her grip remaining gentle and her voice soft. “But I would sooner fall on my own sword than willfully harm you, Lady Sansa.”





	What Girls Like

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on a sideblog I had long ago intended to use as my writing blog, but recently deleted. Please note that the events are definitely out of date with what actually occurred as this was written well over a year ago.

There was a rustle of fabric and then a soft, quiet voice called out, “Brienne.”

Brienne looked up from where she was tending to Oathkeeper, quietly sheathing the blade as she walked over to the small bed that had been brought into the basement of Castle Cerwyn. They had been well welcomed by Lady Jonelle, who quickly commanded her household to tend to her guests. Warm food, a bed and somewhat comfortable lodgings were arranged in one of the expansive basements of the castle. Now, surrounded by crates of furs and thick blankets, Brienne felt that she could breathe, could silently let the events of the last desperate days of riding settle into her bones.

Sansa, clean and warm and fed, rested now after what must have been months of restlessness, quietly laying on the bed. She was dressed only in a warm shift, wrapped in piles of furs to keep the draft of the basement from her delicate frame. The knight towered over the bed, blue eyes fixed upon Sansa’s own, watching the girl watch her silently.

Those eyes were very much Catelyn Stark’s eyes, so bright and cold and blue, bearing an unbearable wisdom and pain, hard learned and engraved deeply into the girl’s bones.

“What can I do for you, Lady Stark?”

Soft lips pulled tight for a moment, flattening into an expression of indecision.

After a moment the girl held up something to Brienne, letting it drop to the hard stone floor between Brienne’s feet. Reaching down the taller woman picked up the fabric, holding up the shift that Sansa had worn to bed.

“Would you like another shift?” Brienne asked, frowning as she looked between the shift and the girl before her.

Sansa’s pale arm, bare now, slid out from under the furs, pressing several to her chest before she straightened and looked up at Brienne more fully.

“I promised to ask you nothing that would sully your honor.” The pale curve of Sansa’s back could be seen in the flicker of a small fire nearby.

“My Lady-” Brienne began, pulling back only for Sansa’s delicate fingers to rest upon her wrist, holding her as captive as any shackle might have.

“Most women…” Sansa swallowed, as if trying to recall the confidence with which she had started her plan. “Most women do not know what they like until they have tried.” The furs were carefully released and Brienne’s breath caught at the sight of pale skin, Sansa’s bare breasts revealed to the cold of the room. “I… I very much would like to try…”

Swallowing thickly the knight silently stared down at the girl for a long moment before she spoke, “Lady Sansa, I would be taking advantage.”

“You swore an oath to protect me… You swore to my mother and then to me.” Sansa stared up at her and Brienne could feel her heart pounding, her entire body wavering in resolve as she watched Sansa lay back, half bared to the room, her long, auburn hair splayed out upon dark furs. “You of all people would not take advantage of me.” A wry smile came to her lips and Brienne was struck with a ridiculous urge to kiss the cynical expression off of her lips.

Sansa’s hand on Brienne’s wrist turned to a gentle grasp, pulling the taller woman closer, forcing her to bend, and then slid her palm against Sansa’s breast, cupping the soft flesh gently. Kneeling before the bed, whatever will Brienne had to resist the Stark girl, beautiful as her mother had been and so much more gentle and wounded and desperate for protection.

She was strong, so much stronger than Brienne could have been in her position. Rendered helpless, viciously used as a pawn in the games of others. When Brienne had seen the girl, married to Tyrion Stark and seated beside him, laid low by the cruelty of Joffrey, she had still been dignified, had still been every inch proud Ned Stark’s daughter.

Had still bourne Catelyn Tully’s intelligence and beauty and kindness. Had still knelt to help her husband, a Lannister whom she hated. Had still looked upon Brienne for protection, had treated her as she would a true knight, not a bizarre inbetween of a person. This beautiful creature looked up at her with the look of someone who trusted her, who believed that she was worthy of the position she craved.

Soft fingers gently soothed over the back of Brienne’s head, the woman looking up at Sansa’s eyes and seeing them lidded and quietly watching, waiting. Brienne paused before her breath rushed hotly over Sansa’s breastbone, fluttering over the pale skin. Blue eyes closed, Sansa’s head tilting back to bare her pale throat as her fingers laced in Brienne’s short blonde hair.

“Brienne.” That voice sighed out her name now and Brienne slid her fingers along the curve of Sansa’s breast, kneading with her palm for a brief moment before she tilted her head to let her lips capture the taunt, rosy nipple between her lips.

Sansa gasped softly, her fingers tightening until Brienne let out a low groan, the older woman sliding her palm over the ribcage of the girl’s slim frame, gripping lightly at the soft skin. A soft, wavering moan escaped out of the girl’s throat, an echoing noise purring up through Brienne’s throat as she tongued at the soft skin beneath Sansa’s breast, trailing her lips down to the flat curve of the girl’s tender stomach.

Her head tilted to rest upon the soft skin, listening to Sansa’s breathing as the girl raggedly heaved her chest, shuddering with the cold or sensations Brienne couldn’t tell. She quietly watched the girl for a moment before sitting up and pulling at the ties of her tunic. Eventually she was able to fumble the fabric off, her hands shaking as she looked down at the girl before her. Sansa gently soothed her fingers over the line of Brienne’s stomach and then her ribs, fingers hesitating before gently touching her breast. They both quietly moved closer, Brienne shucking her breeches until they were about her thighs, Sansa’s hand sliding down to touch at the bunched edge of fabric at the curve of Brienne’s strong thigh.

“Are you…” Sansa didn’t quite know what to ask before she paused and shifted her eyes up to Brienne’s face.

That was the moment where Brienne was quietly sure that Sansa is going to pull her hand back, stop and pull the furs back over her body and send Brienne away. This was a mistake and Sansa was realizing it.

She jumped when Sansa’s fingers slid along the curve of Brienne’s hip, against her stomach and waist before the hand fell back to Sansa’s own stomach, tracing the soft curve of her belly before disappearing beneath the furs. Brienne’s soft eyes looked at Sansa’s own sharp blue and she paused, watching red lashes flutter softly, watched Sansa’s head tilt back slowly onto the furs before she let out a soft sigh and opened her eyes again. Brienne felt her chest tighten and her breath hitch when Sansa’s fingers pulled back over the furs, glistening wet as they touched Brienne’s thigh.

Brienne parted her thighs easily enough to the soft touch, the fabric of her breeches stretching slightly with the motion, watching Sansa as the girl intently pushed her fingers against the flesh of Brienne’s inner thigh. They were quiet for a long moment, watching each other before Brienne slid into the small cot, her elbows framing Sansa’s shoulders and her knees sliding between Sansa’s own spread thighs.

Thin arms slid around Brienne’s shoulders readily enough, holding the woman close to Sansa’s slim frame which shuddered with the chill of the air being driven out by Brienne’s own warmth. The blonde tilted her head slowly, breathing against Sansa’s cheek gently before she slid a broad, calloused hand down the girl’s side then back up again until she could cup Sansa’s soft breast again. Leaning back, sliding closer, Brienne let her lips drag over Sansa’s neck and shoulder, hesitant and slow in her exploration until the girl let her fingers return to the back of Brienne’s neck and shoulders.

“You have very gentle hands.” Sansa whispered, her sharp nose pressed to the soft hair of the other woman’s temple, breathing in the scent of soap, the scent of mead on Brienne’s breath puffing against Sansa’s own mouth and nose gently. “You could not hurt me with these hands.”

“I could.” Brienne murmured, her grip remaining gentle and her voice soft. “But I would sooner fall on my own sword than willfully harm you, Lady Sansa.”

A soft, relieved sigh fluttered out from Sansa’s lips and the girl tilted her head back, letting Brienne continue to kiss down her chest, pressing her full lips to the dip of Sansa’s collarbone, following the curve of her breast to tease the pale skin once more. The reaction she got from dragging her tongue over a peaked nipple was a pleasant one, so she did it again, her mouth enveloping the hard flesh to suck softly until Sansa whimpered and tightened her grip in Brienne’s hair, guiding her to the breast that had been cradled in a rough palm.

Content with her task for now, enjoying the warm, pooling ache between her thighs, Brienne let her eyes closed slowly, breathing in the clean, crisp scent of the girl beneath her. She savoured the feel of Sansa’s short nails running lightly along her scalp, ruffling her short hair that her soft fingers would comb back into place. Shivers rippled up her spine when those fingers slid further down her nape, along her spine before making the achingly slow journey back up to cup the back of Brienne’s head and repeat the process all over again.

“Brienne…” Sansa breathed softly and the more she said her name the more the knight was entirely unable to resist it. Her head drew up reluctantly, giving a parting kiss to Sansa’s breast before she looked down at the girl, eyes heavy and arms locked to hold her body above the girl’s own frame. Sansa drew them closer, shifting as she guided Brienne until their face were even, those sharp Tully eyes watching Brienne for a long moment before Sansa leaned upwards and tilted her head for a kiss.

It was a laughably chaste thing, but it set Brienne aflame nevertheless.

With the kiss Sansa seemed to grow bolder, her palms sliding around Brienne’s shoulders, feeling the strength of them before sliding down to cup her breasts. The knight froze above Sansa, eyes opening just enough to stare at the girl, watching as Sansa’s own gaze followed her hands. Her thumbs slid over soft skin and carefully teased at Brienne’s nipples before the girl tilted her gaze uncertainly up at Brienne. A warm, somewhat shy smile took over Brienne’s face and she tilted her head to kiss at Sansa’s cheek.

“It feels good.” She murmured and Sansa nodded, hesitantly kneading the heavy flesh before she shifted her hands to cup Brienne’s ribcage, then her hips, one hand sliding carefully between the older woman’s thighs.

Something tense in Sansa seemed to unwind and Brienne curiously watched as the girl’s shoulders slumped only slightly, a sign of something being let go, of relief. Spreading her legs Brienne carefully lowered her hips to rest against Sansa’s, the girl’s own thighs parted and draped over stronger legs.

Sansa’s knuckles briefly drew a line between Brienne’s lips, feeling and teasing the warmth there, causing a shudder to wrack up the older woman’s spine. One hand gripped at Sansa’s waist, firmly holding her close, and the girl shivered as she repeated the movement of her own hand, lazily stroking the soft heat over and over. For a few minutes they were content to stay like that, until Brienne’s hips rocked forward to receive more of the touch, eagerly pressing to the fingers that turned to accommodate the gesture. She could feel the burning reach it’s height, feeling as if she might snap in two with the pressure of it as she rocked her hips more urgently into the touch. When Sansa’s thumb pressed against her clit, a little too firmly but giving the touch a directness that had been absent before, Brienne let her mouth fall open and a low, throaty groan escape her lungs. There was a wash of fluid, a small flood of slick that coated Sansa’s hand when Brienne parted her thighs even more for the touch. When Brienne’s shuddering ended the woman was panting and her stomach clenching as Sansa continued to stroke her thumb over Brienne’s throbbing clit.

Blue eyes met a mirrored set, watching each other quietly until Brienne pulled back with a shuddering groan, capturing the soft hand that tried to follow the motion of her hips. Sansa’s fingers were wet now, dripping with Brienne’s own slick, the dampness hardly doing anything to stop Brienne from leaning forward and kissing the girl’s fingers, sighing and lapping at the bitter taste.

She was pleased that Sansa shivered at the gesture, that the girl moaned when Brienne took two digits into her own mouth to lap them clean. She watched the way Sansa squirmed now, the way her chest heaved with her breaths, the way her thighs clenched against Brienne’s own waist as if to draw her closer. Leaning down Brienne hesitated as their faces came level, pausing and searching Sansa’s eyes before she let her lips touch the girl’s own.

Sansa’s hand, still damp from Brienne’s slick and her saliva, slid along the other woman’s nape, tangling in her hair and doubtless smearing the mixture into the short strands. Her free hand dragged short nails along Brienne’s shoulder, holding her close, clutching at the woman as if she’d never let go. Soft, relieved noises, whimpers and whines and gentle little gasps, escaped the girl and Brienne felt a moan bubble up through her own throat. Sansa rolled her hips upwards, thrusting awkwardly against Brienne’s stomach, and the woman moaned louder as she felt the wet smear left against her own pelvis, felt the heat of Sansa pressing against her body.

When they parted it was followed by a litany of Brienne’s name, Sansa’s voice desperate with arousal, Brienne’s own husky tones following with soft murmurs of Sansa’s own name.

A large hand slid over Sansa’s thigh, hesitant up until the limb pressed upwards into her grip, and Brienne smiled, cooing into Sansa’s lips as they stayed face to face. “Spread your legs, my lady.” She murmured, disentangling herself slightly from Sansa, just enough that she could slide down the girl’s body, kissing over her stomach and hips before trying to fit her head between the hesitantly spread thighs.

The angle was awkward and Brienne frowned for a moment, her lips turning to kiss at the inside of a soft thigh, before she pulled back, grasping Sansa’s hips and turning her onto her stomach carefully.

Instantly the girl stiffened. Any languid relaxation of her limbs was gone and Brienne paused, blinking then letting out a soft breath as she realized the reaction.

“Oh, no, no, no.” She murmured, soothing and quiet, kissing at Sansa’s spine for a moment before she carefully laid down, sliding so that Sansa’s knees could straddle Brienne’s own shoulders. Large hands slid over Sansa’s hips, up her waist and along her back, soothing cycles of motion that quickly had the girl relaxing, tilting her head to look down between her own thighs at Brienne.

Holding those too blue eyes, Brienne pressed a kiss to Sansa’s inner thigh before tilting her head to breathe against her folds. Sansa’s eyes fluttered but she didn’t close them as she watched the other woman. When Brienne pressed her tongue against Sansa’s folds, the bitter, musky taste of her flooding into the knight’s mouth, she didn’t break the eye contact they now maintained. Sansa didn’t move, didn’t rock her hips into the touch. If anything she seemed frozen in place, her chest heaving, her shoulders and thighs trembling and her eyes fixed on Brienne as the other woman hesitantly pressed her mouth to the wet folds of her.

She was so soft, Brienne couldn’t help but wonder as she tasted the silken dampness. Nuzzling her nose and mouth against the soft folds, pulling back for a breath, she couldn’t help but groan at the addictiveness of it. Her tongue went flat against Sansa’s entrance, prodding only briefly before she dragged her mouth against the parting of the girl’s lips. Any hesitation at the exploration vanished as Sansa settled herself more fully against Brienne, the woman wrapping her hands around Sansa’s thighs before she dove back into her task.

The girl remained relatively quiet, gasping and breathing in sharply whenever Brienne found a sensitive spot. She trembled more when Brienne sucked at her clit, nuzzling her nose at the sensitive flesh before she would lazily mouth at the parted lips of her, her tongue licking lazy swipes against the soft flesh. She could feel Sansa becoming more slick, knew that her own chin and mouth were probably soaked with the fluid, but could hardly bring herself to care when Sansa’s head tilted back and a soft noise escaped her before she quickly forced herself to look back down, to watch Brienne intently.

Brienne watched as her young lady shivered and moaned, keeping her eyes trained on the face of the girl, curtained by long red waves of hair, flushed from the apples of her cheeks down to the sharp lines of her collarbone. Sansa watched Brienne quietly for a few long moments, her hips rocking and twitching against the mouth that chased her slick warmth. Brienne felt a shudder go through her own body when Sansa cupped her own breasts, the girl kneading at her chest the way Brienne had done, watching the knight pleasure her and shivering more intently for it.

It hardly took more than Brienne pressing her tongue to Sansa’s clit, teasing and swiping her tongue back and forth against the sensitive nub before the girl was shivering and shuddering and gasping. She leaned forward as she came, falling to her elbows and knees as she gasped and whimpered with the force of it, her thighs tightening on either side of Brienne’s head.

They didn’t move from that position for some time, until long after Sansa’s shivers had ceased and her thighs had relaxed. Brienne carefully eased the girl onto her side, arranging the girl’s legs so that they pressed together. The knight lazily kissed her way up Sansa’s stomach, giving soft nips to the flesh as she made her way to a soft breast, and then up the sharp dip of her collarbone. When their faces were even once more Brienne kissed at Sansa’s lips, reaching down to her own breeches and pulling them along her hips until they rested at their proper place.

She tugged the furs about their bodies, ignoring the fact that her own legs dangled off the edge of the small cot while Sansa’s body curled tightly against Brienne’s own warm frame. “I think… I think you are what I like, Brienne.” She whispered, sleepy and content.

When a delicate hand tangled in the fine hairs at the back of Brienne’s head the older woman couldn’t help but smile as she laid a soft kiss on Sansa’s lips.

They stared at each other for a few long moments. What Sansa was thinking, Brienne couldn’t know, but she herself wondered at the small creature before her. She thought about her oath to the girl, to the girl’s mother. She knew without a shadow of a doubt that she would see Sansa as Queen of the North. Even if Sansa found herself in much better care of much more decorated and trusted knights, Brienne would always first and foremost be loyal to this small girl held in her arms

Whatever oath Brienne had sworn would never be enough to express how much she was now tied about the fingers of this young Stark girl.


End file.
